Chapter 11:

I keep silent throughout the rest of the train ride back to District 12. But as soon as we arrive, I feel a newfound sense of excitement. Well, maybe not excitement, but I at least feel that Prim and I will be able to use this last month together productively, giving me less of a feeling of helplessness. Peeta and I had the odds stacked against us last year, too, and look where we ended up. I refuse to let President Snow's announcement keep me feeling discouraged.

Peeta, Haymitch, and I arrive late and all retire to our own houses to crash, but early the next morning, I bring Prim over to Peeta's place, and while we're exercising I have a renewed vigor that Peeta clearly doesn't get. While I'm enthusiastically doing jumping jacks, he sneaks me several questioning looks. But I don't say anything until Haymitch arrives just before lunchtime. I signal that I need to speak with both of them alone.

We leave Prim and Paavo to their camouflaging and conference in Peeta's backyard. With blasting music and hushed voices, of course.

"Look," I begin, "we need to approach things differently this last month, become more effective at training, because of what Snow said, and since we're running out of time. We need to focus on training the tributes in areas where we will see significant improvement."

Haymitch and Peeta nod in agreement, but clearly have no idea how to accomplish this. I continue. "So basically, I think that we should take Prim off of the knifework training," -she had admitted to me last night that she could throw a knife quite well as long as where it landed didn't matter-, "so that Fish Man can devote more time to teaching Paavo. And I want Prim to come with me while they're training, because I want to teach her how to climb trees. And we're just going to have to go into the woods outside our District boundary." The Victor's Village had no climbable trees to speak of.

Haymitch and Peeta nod their assent.

"Just be careful, sweetheart," Haymitch says, "because you can't afford to get trapped outside the District again. So stick with the trees on our side of the woods or just on the other side of the fence- don't get pulled in. But otherwise, I like your plan. Fish Man will take over for you in the evenings to train Paavo from here on out. Also, since we were all only gone for a day and a half, we need to show more Hunger Games videos. They can watch those during my portion of the training."

Of course they can, Haymitch. I roll my eyes. Haymitch had managed to make it sound self-sacrificing, when he was getting off easy. But now we had a fairly set, and rigorous, training schedule.

Watching the Hunger Games videos for a couple of hours during lunch does give us things to discuss a little later that afternoon, and quickly 4 p.m. approaches. Fish Man shows up, looking ragged, to help train Paavo, who is starting to master the knifework quickly with his new mentor. I take Prim aside and we walk toward the Seam.

I am anxious to have Prim alone during training. I want to have the time to give her strategies that only she can use. While I've spent a lot of time with her after training, it hasn't been a good time to bark additional orders at her. Later in the evenings mother is around as well, and most of our time is spent consoling Prim, talking about happy memories, and giving her space when she asks for it. But here, heading towards the woods, is my time with her. To tell her whatever I think she needs to hear to help her survive.

I had already told her about Rue, but I tell Prim about the revelation I had on the train coming home from the Capitol- and how I thought a good approach for Prim would be to model some of the things that Rue did. If Prim could learn to climb trees fast enough to escape from predators- whether they are human or not- than she'll increase her odds of surviving by a substantial amount. And with her light weight, she is at a massive advantage- so this could be something that sets her apart from the other tributes.

We don't see a lot of good trees on our side of the district, so after making sure that the fence is still not electrified, we scramble through and find a thick of trees with appropriate-sized branches. I climb one as high as I am capable while Prim watches, showing her how I maneuver around the branches, how I decide which path to take. I then begin my descent and climb down, jumping on the ground at the end with a flourish. "See? It's not that hard."

Prim begins to climb. She's a natural at pulling herself up the base, and climbing itself isn't all that difficult anyway, if you're strong enough. It's when she gets closer to the top, where the branches thin out, where I want to see how she does. When she reaches the branches where she isn't sure what will support her weight, where she needs to judge whether a branch will be too thin, she's slow and tentative, but does exceptionally well, even though I know that she's afraid. And by that time, because of her age and slight build, she's soaring 20 feet above where I could go. My heart leaps. She will be able to escape.

I have her climb down. First, I give her a couple of tips for getting up the base of the tree faster, then start timing her as I watch her do it again and again. For an hour. My relief keeps blossoming. She has already improved tremendously, cutting her 30 foot ascent time in half, and this is only the first day. I make a mental note that we need to do this training exercise every day until the Quell.

Then, as I watch her climb to the very top, I give her more tips how to understand which path to take- but it's a lot of trial and error. Every time she makes a misjudgment, I have her climb down and start over. Prim tries again. And again. Each time taking a different route so that she can learn the branches a little better. When she masters one tree, I have her move on to the next. Every half hour or so, I let her rest for a couple of minutes. In the last one of those breaks, I feel the need to speak up.

"Prim, I want to apologize for the other night," I begin, keeping my emotions in check, assuring myself that my outburst was an aberration.

"For what?" she asks dubiously.

"When I was on TV, after Caesar told everyone that the wedding date had been set, and after I cried, what I said was just…I said what I had to say, but I didn't mean it, you know? There is no way that day would be beautiful without you."

Prim nods in understanding. "That's okay. You said what you had to say. I just can't believe you cried like that! Did the Capitol have anything to say about it?"

She's clever, that Prim. And she knows me too well. I can't lie to her.

"Yes, I saw President Snow, and he said that he would consider moving the wedding back a day, so that if one of you wins you can be there."

Prim understands the seriousness of what I just said. The thought of an alliance sounds great, but who knows if it will really come to fruition. She has to learn to survive on her own. She takes on a serious tone. "I guess I'd better learn to climb these trees better." She gets off the forest floor signaling the end of our little break.

Prim starts climbing up the base again with even greater determination. She reaches the top of the heavier branches in record time and begins exploring several thin branches nearby. Unfortunately, I think our conversation has temporarily made her careless. I don't think she takes the time to realize that none of the nearby branches will support her. But before I can tell her this, she makes the step, shifting her weight- and the tiny branch snaps in half, sending an off-balance Prim airborne.

"Prim!" I shout up to her, just as she lets out a blood-curdling scream.

She is falling, and can't control herself through the air. She is too far from the base to catch any branches that will support her weight, and the little branches grab her but quickly let go, especially after she accelerates through her fall.

I hear a rustling nearby, but I am supremely focused on putting myself in the best possible position to catch her. I am not far away, but I shift slightly until I am directly under her. Even as I stand there ready to brace her fall, however, I am terrified. Even though some of the smaller branches appear to be slowing her fall to a degree, she will crash into me with great force, and I'm not all that much bigger or heavier than she is. Nevertheless, I am well positioned, and I keep my feet firmly planted, arms outstretched, ready to take the brunt of her impact. I can't bear it. I close my eyes.

The next couple of seconds happen in a blur. Sounds get louder. I feel something push into me, knocking me completely off balance, and I crash onto the ground. But I don't feel Prim crash on top of me; don't feel anything else at all. Prim's screaming abruptly stops, but I don't hear a sickening thud.

When I open my eyes, I see that someone else has caught Prim, standing a few feet away where I was just a moment ago. Gale.